From This Moment On
by sburbiangodtier
Summary: America and England's wedding day was a day they'd never soon forget. It was the final step to sharing their lives forever, and they couldn't wait. Some language, yaoi, and lots of diabetes-inducing fluff!


**Yet another roleplay story by Letovix and I! This is one of our special favorites, and we hope it will be one of yours too! We don't see too many wedding stories with America and England, so we decided to make our own. And we love it. This actually stemmed from a drawing challenge we gave each other. She would draw England in a wedding dress (mind you, she's not much of a cross-dressing fan, so that was asking a lot of her, and I love her for it.) while I drew America in a tuxedo. Here are the finished results: **

**England: http: //veggie-fan-attic (dot) deviantart (dot) com /art/Wedding-day-136491821**

**America: http:/ /yenyenoftigerpawcc (dot) deviantart (dot) com /art/From-This-Moment-On-America-138511247**

**Mine was actually the picture that inspired this whole story. But hers inspired me, so it was a win-win situation. :3 **

**I roleplay once again as America, while Leto once again roleplays as England. **

**Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya, and the song "From This Moment On" (which this story is also based off of) belongs to Shania Twain. **

**Please enjoy the pure fluff and true love! :3**

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England took a deep breath as he entered the room. He had told America not to be late, and yet he had arrived, as usual, just that, the idiot apparently having no respect for the ones he inconvenienced. He really wasn't supposed to go in there, England knew, but screw tradition! He wanted to see the man who... He swallowed thickly. ...the man who he would soon be married to. Crossing his arms upon seeing America fiddle with his belt, he cleared his throat, feigning frustration. "You...you're late, America. Why can't you just be on time for once? It's your own wedding for crying out loud!"

America started a bit when he heard England's voice, and he turned slightly, finally getting his belt buckle to clasp. It was a different belt than any of his other ones, more old-fashioned. And it truly was, being the belt to the suit that England had given him so long ago, back when he was still the man's colony. America was surprised the clothing even fit him, honestly. The look of irritation on England's face made him smile nervously. "I'm sorry, England...I...I had a bit of a problem with my suit." He just hoped that the ribbon around his neck was tied straight. But as he turned, he caught the full view of England, and he tried to hide the smile threatening to burst on his lips at the sight of England in his wedding dress. The sight wasn't funny...well, okay maybe it was...but America thought that his bride couldn't have been more beautiful.

England blinked, slowly unfolding his arms as America turned around to face him. He hadn't noticed when the other had his back to him, his body blocking the mirror, but now that the Englishman got a good look... "America...that...that's the suit that I gave you when you were still a colony... So many years ago... You kept it..?" His cheeks turned a light pink. When he had first given it to the other male, America had complained about it, and refused to wear it, and as far as England knew, he really _hadn't_ ever worn it, save for that one time when he tried it on. It was...more than a little touching, actually.

The American laughed lightly and rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks blushing the same color as England's. "Yeah...I guess I did." He noticed England's emerald eyes glistening at the admission, a smile making its way helplessly onto his cheeks. "I could never part with it, no matter how hard I tried. And...I thought you'd like to finally see me in it on a good occasion." America gave his own weak smile, turning to the mirror to re-adjust the ribbon at his neck. "Does it look...bad on me?"

Admiration and nostalgia flooded England's mind, and that reflected in his expression. America looked amazingly dashing, and somehow, that sort of old-timey look suited him in a way. England couldn't hold back the tears that began to form threateningly on the corners of his eyes, and he swallowed, admiring the other from where he stood. "N-no, it looks...better than it did all those years ago. It's amazing... America...you..." His eyes, seemingly of their own accord, slid shut half way, and he took a step forward, then another, and he had almost gotten close enough to place his hand on his fiancé's shoulder, when Germany knocked and opened the door, informing them that the wedding was to start soon. "Okay guys, the wedding is due to start in five minutes, so go ahead and get into position." There was a pause, and after processing the situation, he added, "...you know it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding." England rolled his eyes. And America called _him_ old fashioned...

When he saw England roll his eyes, America laughed out loud, taking Germany's words in his stride. "I know that! But it's not like it's my fault!" He poked England's cheek, laughing when his blushing bride-to-be slapped his hand away. "England's the one who walked in on me!" England sputtered at this, but Italy, who had slipped into the room with Germany, grabbed England's arm. America merely winked at him and blew him a kiss. "I'll see you up front, babe. Okay?" The butterflies took flight in his stomach at his own words. Only another half-hour and he would no longer be a bachelor nation. He'd be married to the one who he'd somehow always known was meant for him, even back in the days of the Revolution, days that had long since been laid to rest.

America watched in slight amusement as England gave a reserved smile, winking back before Italy pulled him out of the room, babbling about how wonderful it was that they were going to be in love with each other forever.

"Ve~ I can't believe you're getting married! You look so happy, and that dress is so CUTE! Aww, soon you two'll be just like me and Germany, all happy and everything, and I bet the honeymoon will be wonderful!" Everyone knew that Germany and Italy were a couple, and after some big fiasco a while back involving some Swedish restaurant, Germany had managed to _successfully_ propose to the little brunette. Germany was still very prude about showing their relationship in public, and he scolded Italy not only for that, but for mentioning the honeymoon as well, saying that those kinds of affairs were best left to the couple themselves.

The honeymoon... England blushed at the thoughts of what was inevitably going to come tonight. America would finally have him, and England smiled softly, knowing that he was ready. Before that, however, they still had an entire ceremony to go through, and so he followed the German and Italian, allowing them to lead him to his position.

Meanwhile, America had quickly made his way through a back entrance to the front of the church sanctuary, and now stood beside his brother, Canada, anxiously awaiting the moment he'd see England again. But he was nervous now, and he fiddled with his glasses, adjusting them and re-adjusting them on his nose as he did when he got nervous. "I don't know if I can do this..." He mumbled to himself.

Canada perked up beside him, and touched his arm gently. "Yes, you can, America! This is the day you've been waiting for...to finally marry your one true love." He urged his brother in that soft-spoken voice of his. Kumajirou was sitting in the front row, as Canada couldn't hold him while standing up front.

America heard the soft voice and turned around, staring at Canada like he'd seen a ghost. _Who is he and why is he standing in my best man's position?_ "Um...did I choose you to be my best man?" He asked cluelessly, peering over his glasses at the other blonde.

The Canadian's eyebrows furrowed and his frowned. "Don't you remember doing that?" He asked, hurt lacing his voice. It looked he'd been forgotten again... America shrugged, not remembering in the least, and turned forward again to wait for the wedding to start.

Seeing that everyone was in position, Greece, who had been asked to marry the two nations, nodded to Austria, who had been put in charge of the music, and, nodding back, he began to play, his fingers gliding across the piano keys gracefully and flawlessly, the result of much practice. Swallowing thickly, the poor man incredibly nervous, England took the cue, urging his feet to move down the aisle and towards his soon-to-be husband. He glanced over to his "maid of honor", the man on his arm, and whispered harshly. "You know that I didn't choose you as my best man because I like you or anything. I just...didn't have anyone else to choose. Bastard..."

France smirked, and replied, "Oh of course. I would never expect you to give into my undeniable charms, England. You're not tasteful enough for that." Soon enough, they reached the front, and France released the other male's arm, England standing beside America. Luckily, as much as France hated England, he was a firm believer that one should respect two people in love, and so he didn't try anything funny with either of them.

America felt breathless as he once again beheld his bride. England was so beautiful in that long satin dress, his emerald eyes standing out against the white of the misty veil pinned to his blonde locks. He reached out his hands to take England's, tears building up behind his eyes. "You're so beautiful." He whispered, resisting the urge to caress the man's pale cheek as they turned to face Greece.

"Thank you." he whispered, the whole room soon going silent. England's throat felt hot and tight as he swallowed, blinking back his own tears, and once Greece began the actual ceremony, he squeezed America's hand in assurance. They had a rough past. It was full of bumps and cracks and heartache. But from now on, he was sure that it would be much happier, and that they could be content with each other. _Married..._ The words still rung in his ears, and he smiled, biting his lip. Yeah. He was ready. '_I'm not going to cry, I'm not going to cry, I'm not going to cry... Not before America._'

"We are gathered here today to witness the joining of America and England in the act of holy matrimony." Greece said, his voice carrying out over the congregation of nations. Everyone, even from the furthest corners of the Earth, had come, something America was grateful for. Even Iraq and Afghanistan and Iran, the Middle Eastern brothers, had come in peace to witness his special day. _Their_ special day. He swallowed convulsively, tears threatening to brim in his eyes. It was the happiest day of his life, really. Greece continued to talk, until it was time to say the wedding vows. America turned to England, repeating every word that Greece said.

"I, A-America, affirm my love to you, England, as I invite y-you to share my life. I promise always to respect your needs. I will endeavor through k-kindness, unselfishness and trust to achieve the warm, rich life we now look forward to. T-to this end I call upon all present to witness that I take you, England, to be my lawful...husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health while we both shall l-live." England's eyes spilled over with tears as he said the words, and that in turn, caused America to cry as well, his voice cracking at the end of his vow.

It was unusual for everyone in the auditorium to hear, that was certain. America's strained voice, barely able to get his sentences out, the nation so incredibly happy that he couldn't even contain his joyful tears... England was no better, and he was already crying when his vows began, his breath hitching from the tears. "I, England, affirm my love to you, Am-merica, as I invite you to share my life. I p-promise always to respect your needs. I will endeavor through k-kindness, unselfishness and trust to achieve the warm rich life we now look forward to. To this end I call upon all present to witness that I t-take you, America, to be my lawful...my lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for p-poorer, in sickness and in health while we both shall live." As he said the last of his line, he brought a hand to instinctively wipe away his tears, sniffling and grinning up at America. The bloody git looked so wonderful...so amazing right now. And if England could have gone to heaven right then, the most paradise of paradise...he would have refused. Because he couldn't think of anywhere he would want to be more than right there, holding America's hand.

America's heart swelled with love and joy as Sealand approached them, holding the pillow with two gold bands on it. America's hand shook as he reached out to take England's ring, lifting his bride's left hand as he slid it on to the knuckle. "England, with this ring I thee wed. Take it and wear it as a symbol of all we shall share." He said, voice shaking again as he lifted England's hand to his lips, pressing them against the ring, as if to seal the promise the little band held. He smiled through his tears, gazing into England's eyes as if there was nothing else that existed in the world. England was so beautiful, and in a matter of minutes, he would his _his_. His, and no one else's. Not even someone like France would dare try to break the union they shared.

The tears wouldn't stop falling, and as they continued to flow down his face, England couldn't help but grin down at Sealand, the troublesome boy actually being pleasant for once. It seemed that even he knew how important the day was for everyone, and England would have to remember to thank the boy was his turn now, though, and as he took the ring, his whole body trembling from anticipation and eagerness, he slipped it on his almost-husband's finger, repeating the vows he had said moments before. Now all that was left was the actual ceremony, when Greece would declare them legally married, and where the two countries could finally band together to forget the misery of their past.

Greece had been watching, listening, a smile on his face as he watched the two nations exchange their vows. And when the last syllable of England's vow had died away, he cleared his throat. "If there be any witnesses that think there is any legitimate reason why these two should not be joined in matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace. And yes, that means you, France." There was some light laughter spread throughout the audience, but surprisingly, even France remained silent. America held his breath for a long moment, but when no one spoke, he relaxed. Greece nodded, and instructed America and England to face each other, hands joined. "By the power vested in me by...well...the world, I now pronounce you man and...um...partner. America, you may now kiss your bride."

This was it. The moment he'd been waiting for. Looking down at his new bride, whose cheeks shone with tears, America leaned his forehead against England's for a moment, whispering an soft "I love you so much." before pressing his lips to the Briton's.

And in all of the three years they had dated, even their first kiss hadn't felt so sweet. It was a short kiss, not lasting more than two seconds, but it was the most important kiss they ever had, and England relished in the moment. When their lips parted, a cheer rang out throughout the auditorium, and he knew...he was married. He was _married!_ Married to America, and as he wrapped his arms around the wonderful idiot in a hug, he whispered through his tears, "I love you too."

The smile on his face seemed permanent as America pulled away, entwining their hands as he held them up to the sky, as if in a victorious pose. The applause and cheering continued as he lowered their hand. America tugged on England's hand and said over the din, "Come on, love. Let's go eat some awesome food and celebrate!" And they went back down the aisle, as life partners, husband and "wife". Their Special Relationship had only grown better, America was sure of it, as they burst through the double doors of the church and out to the limo that awaited them.

Both parties were laughing by the time they piled in, and once they snuggled up in the back, hands still intertwined, England decided that he'd better speak up. "A limo? You'd think I would expect this of you by now. Ever the center of attention, aren't you luv?" Of course his words were teasing. They were going to meet with good friends, to eat and drink and be merry, as it were. They had begun their lives together, and at that moment, England felt as if he could never again be angry at America. He knew that wasn't the case, but he decided to push that truth away for the moment. No sense in ruining their perfect day.

America did not answer, save a low, pleased sound in his throat as he gazed openly at his blushing bride. He leaned over, cupping England's face in his hands gently, and pressing their lips together with all the passion he held for the Briton. "Never mind that now." He whispered, as he kissed England again, and again, and again. "I love you so much, wife." He chuckled softly at that, knowing full well how Finland responded when Sweden called him that. But England knew he was teasing, right? "You're mine now. Mine, and no one can have you. I'm the only one who can occupy your vital regions from now on, yes?" Another soft laugh as the limo started to move away from the curb.

England had to laugh against the American's lips. "If you can take them." he teased, grabbing the front of the other's jacket and pulling him in for a rough, controlling kiss. "If you think you can, then by all means, prove it to me at the honeymoon." America's grin told all, and as the limo stopped and they scrambled out, running into the building to wait for everyone else so they could eat and have fun before the celebrations were over.

As the other nations began to arrive, America and England greeted each of them in kind, America never letting go of his bride's hand as they did. When everyone was finally situated according to tables (after some last-minute changes because under no circumstances would Romano sit at the same table as Germany!), America stood up, grinning down at England. "My fellow nations, I would like to give a speech now!"

England smirked up at the blonde. "Don't bore them luv." This got him a slightly irritated "I wasn't going to, why can't you trust me" kind of glance, and gentle chuckles from the rest of the world.

Italy grinned and shouted above the snickers and whispers, "When do we eat?" and everyone began to laugh again.

"I think you should make it quick, America." England continued to smile, leaning on his lover. "You must be getting hungry too, after all."

America rubbed his stomach. "Duh. Of course I'm hungry! I couldn't eat this morning because I was too nervous!" He leaned down to peck his England on the forehead, then straightened up again. "My fellow nations, I'd like to thank all of you for coming to my awesome wedding and even more awesome reception! England and I appreciate your support--and gifts--very much! Now--" He was suddenly cut off by England standing to his feet and pulling America into a long, sloppy kiss, using as much tongue as possible. "Mmmnnngh..." America moaned before pulling away. "All right! All right! Geez..." Everyone else laughed while America spoke up again. "Let's eat!"

Everyone cheered good naturedly, and England subtly wiped the spit from the corners of his mouth. "Good, because I didn't eat breakfast either." He was actually pretty excited to hear that France had been put in charge of the buffet, not that he would ever let _anyone_ know, and of course, since it was their wedding, everyone let them go first. There was plenty to go around, so no one said a word when America carried two plates through the line and had England carry a third one in addition to his own. England rolled his eyes and just supposed that he'd have to get used to it. Not that America ever ate his cooking anyway... Only on those special occasions when he was feeling nostalgic or jealous that someone else was getting them, and that was, honestly, not much.

To no one's surprise, America ate every bite on all three of his plates and still had room for the wedding cake. Even England's look of teasing disgust couldn't deter him. "You're going to gain fifty pounds before we're even on the honeymoon, America!"

"I can't help it if I'm hungry!" America retorted back, rolling his eyes.

Just then, France grabbed the microphone that was attached to the stereo system, which had been playing quiet music the entire time. _"Puis-je avoir votre attention, s'il vous plaît?"_ The room quieted for a moment. _"Merci._ Now, it is time for _L'Amérique_ and _L'Angleterre_ to do the traditional cutting of the cake."

America grinned impishly at England. "The wedding cake, England. This should be fun, right?" He teased, elbowing his bride softly in the ribs.

England smiled softly, the elbow having tickled, and stood from his seat. "All that cake is going to do is make you gain even _more_ weight."

America pouted and shrieked something about "It will not, quit being so mean!", but soon followed suit, the "bride" and groom going swiftly over to the cake.

With cameras poised in every direction, America picked up the crystal knife and handed it to England, the latter taking it and positioning it over the cake. America put his hand overtop of England's and took in a deep breath. "Ready, love?" He whispered, before pressing down gently.

The knife blade bit into the white frosting, then the cake itself, as they cut the very first piece for themselves. Once the slice was on the plate that France had handed to them, America picked up his fork and pulled a small bite off and lifted it into the air. "Does anyone dare me to?"

England glowered as he took up a bite of his own. "America, I swear, if you even think about smashing that thing into my face I'll make you sleep on the couch tonight!"

But America only laughed. "Relax, Iggy. Here." And together, they slipped their forks into each other's mouths, feeding each other the first bites of wedding cake. And America made sure to seal it with a kiss, tongue pushing into England's mouth to combine their own unique tastes with the frosting. "Mmm..." America hummed, smiling against England's mouth. This had to be the best cake in the world.

England was still a little embarrassed, having everyone's eyes on them and only them, and it made it even worse by the fact that everyone was watching them _kissing,_ but it was a wedding. He supposed that everyone kind of _expected_ them to kiss... Not like that thought eased his mind or anything... But when America pulled back, a bit of frosting clinging to his lips, the Englishman had to smirk, and he leaned forward to lick it wantonly off of the other male's lips. "Don't be sloppy America, people will think badly of you."

At England's words, America laughed again. "I'll be sloppy all I want...when I'm kissing you, Iggy." And he winked, leaning in and pressing his lips to England's again, making sure to use plenty of tongue this time. Around him, he could faintly hear Prussia yelling something about "Get a room, you two!" and Italy swooning something about "Sweet amore!" to Germany, but for the ten seconds that his tongue danced with England's, it felt like it was just the two of them in the room. But he could feel England's face heating up, a sure sign of being flustered. So he pulled away, grinning impishly down at the shorter male before turning to the rest of the world. "There's plenty of cake for everyone, so dig in!" He called out, taking England's hand, and leading him back to the bridal table to wait for everyone else to get their cake and be seated again.

It was a wonderful cake. Just what you'd expect from France, though, again, England would never admit that out loud. America ate his fair share of the slice, but to his credit, he would actually feed England every few bites, and in the end, they ended up eating the cake pretty much equally. England could feel his face heat up just a bit more every time America would hold the fork out, and eventually, he had to turn away. "You're feeding me just to see me turn red, aren't you..?" he asked.

America laughed. "If I wanted to see you turn red, I have better ways of doing it." he winked, finishing off the cake. And indeed he did, for England's cheeks turned near scarlet at the expression that the other country wore, and at his own thoughts flitting through his head. He was about to make a flustered comment, but no sooner had he gotten the "I" in "idiot" out of his mouth, than the loudspeaker came on, and France's voice filled everyone's ears again.

_Perfect timing._ America thought as he grabbed England's hand and stood, leading his partner out to the middle of the dance floor as France spoke. "Your attention, _si vous plait_! Our lovely couple is going to perform their first dance for us now, with the song "From This Moment On" by one of America's lame country singers. Personally, I don't know why he didn't ask me to perform the dance song, as I have _c'est magnifique_ singing voice that is perfect for sweet _amour_ such as this but--ACK!"

And the Frenchman was silenced as England hurled a dinner knife at him, the blunt end hitting him in the head and knocking him to the floor. "Just because you're the announcer for my wedding doesn't mean that I have to be nice to you, gitface!" England called out, causing sporadic applause to break out amongst the other dining countries.

America grinned. "Thanks, Iggy." He said, as Canada, after helping the wounded France to his feet, pressed the play button on the stereo, turning the music on.

The first strains of the song echoed over the room, and the blonde American took England's hand in his as he moved his other hand to the small of his sweet lover's back, pulling him close as they began to move. Slow, small steps in a circle at first, and then moving a bit more in a wider circle. And for the moment, literally, England was the only one in America's range of vision. He was blushing and smiling up at him, and America couldn't resist kissing him. "I love you." He whispered simply, catching England by surprise as he spun him out slowly, the Briton's wedding dress swirling around his feet as he was spun back into America's arms for a quick kiss before being dipped back, then back up for yet another wonderful kiss. They moved in their circle again, America singing the lyrics of the song softly into England's ear as said man rested his head on America's shoulder.

_"You're the reason I believe in love, and you're the answer to my prayers from up above. All we need is just the two of us, my dreams came true because of you..."_ America moved his hands to wrap around England's waist, England wrapping one arm around America's neck and the other hand on his chest. And they stopped moving in a circle as the song came to an end, swaying gently to the soft beat in each other's arms. And the music died away, yet they stayed, locked in each other's arms. "I love you so much." America whispered again in England's ear.

England smiled, and he couldn't keep himself from laughing slightly. He was just so happy... He was now, officially married to the American, everyone had showed up to demonstrate their support, he had just eaten a wonderful meal, courtesy of the now-in-pain (which just added to the pleasure) France, and he was sure that the honeymoon would be amazing. He kissed the lobe of his _husband's_ ear, and in the sweetest tone he could muster without sounding like a totally different person, whispered "I love you too."

Suddenly, France's voice re-appeared over the loudspeaker. "If it weren't your wedding day, you'd have a war on your hands, England..."

"I'm married now, every day is going to be a war!" he joked back, and America smirked.

"Umm...papa? Maybe you can try to get along with them for just today..?" and the speaker cut off.

America led England back to his seat, wanting to avert a possible war with the Frenchman this day. They had plenty of time to kick France's ass. This was _their_ day. And by all justice and heroism in this world, NOTHING would ruin it! But before he sat down, he turned to the other nations. "Okay, people! The dance floor is open, so let's shake this formality and get down with it! You with me, home dogs?!" A cheer rose from the other half of the room as couples and single people alike flooded the open area, the music switching to a favorite 80's rock song of America and England's, the pulsating beat breaking the ice that had hung over the crowd before. But the happy couple stayed in their seats, simply watching. "I'm not good with dancing, you know, unless it's breakdancing...but there's time for that later, right?" He grinned at England, slipping his hand into his "wife"'s.

England mentally cursed himself for failing as a parental figure. What did he do wrong to the extent that his former little brother would start using words like "home dog" to describe his fellow countries..? But he was stuck with the little menace's horrible grammar for what he hoped to be the rest of his life, and so he supposed he would just have to get over that, along with the other stuff. Their fingers linked together perfectly, or maybe it only seemed that way, and as they watched the other countries dance around England smiled. There was France, swapping between partners, but he noticed that every time he would dance with Canada, he would always stay the longest, then there was Germany trying to keep up with the hyper Italian, Hungary and Prussia fighting over who got to dance with Austria, who had given up and decided to sip punch instead. Russia was trying not to dance with Belarus by dancing with a poor, frightened Lithuania instead, and Switzerland had tried to dance with Lichtenstein, but she had gotten horribly embarrassed and ran off. No one could say that their wedding wasn't an interesting one...

The dancing seemed to go on forever, America finally getting out there and breakdancing, much to the delight of most (and slight disgust of others), but finally, the clock in the corner of the room showed the time to be nearly seven o'clock pm, and the party had settled down. America knew they had a flight to catch at nine, so he stood up, taking the microphone and thanking everyone for coming. There were soft laughs and whispers throughout the audience. Everyone knew what was coming next. "Come on, England." America said, taking the man's hand. "We've got a flight to catch." And they were out the door, leaving behind the rest of the nations, and towards America's waiting car, sitting in the parking lot. America helped England up into the passenger side, and he got into the driver's seat, and they drove off.

England leaned his head back, smiling. The other male had already turned on the radio, and England could deal with the fact that it was hard rock. He liked hard rock himself, and it had been really popular back when he had gone into his punk phase. He was actually kind of impressed to find that America still listened to some British bands, and the thought kind of made him happy. He sighed, already kind of tired from all of the festivities, but he had enough energy for what was going to inevitably come next. "That was fun." he whispered, and America nodded in agreement, turning onto the main road that led to the airport.

It was kind of a hassle trying to get their suitcases loaded into the terminal, since America had so many, not that England was surprised or anything. But finally, they had given their tickets and were onboard the 747 bound for Sasebo, Japan. Japan's wedding gift to them was a week's honeymoon in the beautiful city, with no interruptions from the other countries. And America couldn't have been more grateful, especially after all that bombing business back in '45. As the plane lifted into the evening air, America held England's hand, the Briton having leaned his head on his husband's shoulder seemingly for a catnap. And America couldn't blame him.

England dosed on and off the whole time, thankful that he had changed into some more normal clothing before rushing away from the wedding party. He wasn't sure how others would react to seeing a man in a wedding dress with another man in a tux, both wearing wedding rings... They finally landed, and America had to shake England's shoulder to get him up.

"England, love, we're here." England blinked his eyes open drowsily, and America smiled. England was always so cute when he first woke up. "I'm glad we decided to hold the wedding on my West Coast, or we would have been flying for more than four hours!"

The British man mumbled something unintelligible under his breath as they moved into the aisle and down the flight terminal, quickly finding their suitcases, and hailing a taxi outside towards the small village house on the country outskirts of the city, the place Japan had arranged for them to stay. It was a beautiful piece of property, with sakura blooms glowing pink in the soft lighing around the gardens of the house. The house was styled after older Japanese homes from another era, with the sliding doors and kotatsus and floral paintings everywhere. And on the low table, America found a note from Japan to them.

_The bedroom is down the hall, third door on the right. Make yourselves at home, and enjoy your honeymoon. Congratulations from me and my country! --Japan._

He grinned, showing the note to England. "Well, that makes one thing easier." This said with a mischievious gleam in his eyes.

England's face went a pale red, and he turned away, nibbling on his lower lip. "You want to get straight to that, don't you?" he mumbled, though his tone was lacking irritation or accusation. "And they say _I'm_ the perverse one..." He had to admit though, the house was nice, and there weren't any other houses terribly close by, so them making noise wouldn't be a problem... The thought turned him even more red. Maybe...maybe he really was the more perverse...

America laughed out loud, taking England into his arms and kissing him right there. "Silly England, surely I'm not as perverse as you! We'll get settled first before...getting down to business." He licked his lips hungrily, eyeing England up and down. But before England could slap him, America smooched his lips yet again before letting him go and heading to the kitchen, leaving a quite flustered England behind him.

He flushed and went after his new spouse, checking out the simple kitchen before looking to the side and mumbling. America had to ask for a repeat, but he got his answer when England said again, "I said...I said was just kidding earlier. We don't...have to wait to do that...if you don't want to." America's grin only made England flush more, and he scowled in that cute way that made him look more embarrassed than angry. "I'm only doing this for you, don't get me wrong!" he sputtered. "I mean, making you wait for something like that would just be mean..."

"And why would you want to wait?" America asked, moving to England's side and wrapping an arm around his waist. "It's our wedding night, we're alone in the beautiful house, and we're together...why wait for something so wonderful?" England only blushed all the more. "Are you...afraid or something?" America asked, his face turning serious for a moment. It was possible, after all. "Give me one good reason why we should wait any longer to do what we've held back from doing for all this time?"

England paused for a long moment, trying to think of a reason. Oh, he wanted the American to take him, yes. They had dated for three years, and had held themselves back for this moment. Call it old fashioned if you want, to them, the excitement and thrill of their wedding day would only be completed by their first time, and that thought made them both happy. England never made eye contact with the other blonde.

"England..? We can wait. Really, it's okay. I've waited this long, I can hold out some more."

That made him snap. He reached out, grabbed the other by the tie, and pulled him in, kissing him passionately and lovingly. "No." he whispered against surprised and compliant lips. "I don't want to wait anymore. I'm ready for you America, and there's no reason why we should hold off on this any longer."

At England's words, America felt that surge of desire race through his veins, just as it had many times before when they'd very nearly gone all the way, back when they had been dating, and even in the past months of their engagement, and he sucked in a tiny gasp through his lips. England was looking up at him, a blush on his face, and eagerness in his eyes. But...England was only saying this because America had brought it up. That made him feel a bit bad. Nevertheless, he leaned down to kiss his handsome husband-wife, and whispered, "Thank you, England. You won't regret it." before leaning down a bit more and scooping the Briton into his arms, bridal style, and carrying him down the hall to the bedroom that Japan had pointed out in the note. The room was dark, except for a few lanterns hanging from the ceiling that cast soft shadows across the floor, and the full moon. The bed was large, king-size, for which America was glad as he confidently carried England across the expanse of the floor and laid him down on the bed, attacking his lips again.

England's arms went up to wrap around America's neck immediately, and he was already rising, reaching a high. Their tongues, so slick already with the saliva of each other, the soft, gentle moans and sighs that didn't quite echo through the room, the feeling of America's fingers running through the hair on the side of his head...the thought of what they were about to do, and that this time, they were definitely going to do it...he was starting to feel pleasantly dizzy... America's hand went up to slip under his shirt, and England's breath hitched as it found a nipple, and he stuttered the American's name across the lips that his own rested on.

He was determined to make this the best night of their lives. America had read up on this so many times in the last few months, wanting to make sure that he did it right. He wanted his beloved England to feel the very maximum pleasure that he could offer him, maybe even above and beyond. His fingers lithely skittered their way across England's quickly-heating skin, caressing the hard nubs on either side of the man's chest as their lips never ceased their passionate movement. England was moaning into the kisses, his hands tightening and loosening sporadically in America's hair, and that only served to drive the blonde man wild. "England..." He cooed breathily, pulling the Briton's shirt up over his head and tossing it to the floor, so as to have better access as he dragged his lips down England's jaw and neck, nipping and leaving little marks each place he went, before settling his mouth down nicely upon one of the gasping man's nipples.

The automatic flinch that his body gave was a bit more violent than the one he normally gave when America did this sort of thing. True, they hadn't had sex, but they had sort of fooled around. Mostly just foreplay and making out and such, though, it was nothing intense, since neither one actually ever managed to get into the pants of the other... America's mouth stayed at his nipple, teasing it mercilessly with his tongue and the gentle movement of his lips, but his hands had slowly begun to slide, palm down, lower on his stomach, looking for the pants button, buckle, zipper, whatever it was. England's breathing increased the tracest amount at the thought.

America's fingers searched hungrily, waiting for that touch of metal to reach his fingertips. Sure enough, once he'd trailed past the dirty blonde's bellybutton, he discovered the elusive button on England's pants, then the zipper just beyond that. The discovery spurred him onward, and the sound of aforementioned zipper being pulled down suddenly sounded much louder in the quietude of the room, second only to the heavy panting of the two men on the bed. America pulled away from England, admiring his husband thus far. The Briton's lips were swollen and shiny, slick with saliva. His cheeks were flushed, his emerald eyes half-mast with desire. Already, a light sheen of sweat coated his forehead, making his blonde hair stick to it slightly. England's smooth chest rose and fell with his labored breathing, and the sight of his beloved, sprawled out this way just for him, made America fall in love with him all the more. Truly, England was beautiful this way, and he told him so as he tugged his pants down and tossed them off the bed to join his shirt.

England wasn't quite sure how he felt. Oh, he was excited, yes, he was ready for America to take him. But...he felt incredibly exposed like this, garbed in nothing but his underwear, knowing that they were about to come off... The Briton swallowed thickly, his breath shuddering in, and he reached down, since his hands were already around the American's neck, undoing various clasps that held his suit on. "Ngh...damn it... I'm starting to wish that I gave you a suit that was easier to remove..." he muttered, bringing a smile to the bespectacled American's face.

"You were the one who made it for me, babe." America returned, his voice husky, though that smile lingered within the sound of it. "Of course, you have to admit, it makes this more fun, right?" England merely rolled his eyes, concentrating solely on those buttons. The jacket slid off his shoulders, and America shrugged it off before England tugged at the ribbon that was still tied around his collar. But even as England's hands attack the buttons on his white linen shirt, America amused himself with sliding his fingers along the hem of England's underwear, teasing him.

England's hands began to hold the fabric tighter, and he began to get flustered, his hands occasionally slipping off of a button, and after about the third time, England began to fuss. "America, quit that, it's distracting!" The other just laughed, but he did comply, and England managed to successfully pull out the other buttons from their respective holes. The shirt went down to join the ever-growing pile of clothing. His belt was hastily undone, and then, it was England's turn to have fun as he reached for the clasp and zipper of America's dress pants, undoing them slowly, and watching slyly as the American began to wiggle uncomfortably and listened with intent as his breath began to hitch.

"England..." The name escaped America's throat in a breathy whisper. His pants were pooled to his knees, and he awkwardly kicked them off to join the other articles of clothing. His erection was painfully evident by now, and England's eyes were locked on it, his adam's apple quivering with quick, moaned breaths. The American blonde leaned England back into the fluffy pillows of the bed and connected their lips, the kiss soon becoming a show of passion and clashing teeth and tongues and moaned sweet nothings. "England...England...do you know how much I have longed to do this to you...to show you how much I truly love you?" America whispered between kisses, a thin trail of saliva connecting their swollen lips for a moment before breaking. His hand, meanwhile, had trailed down the man's torso yet again, slipping into his underwear and grabbing hold of England's hard erection.

England's body immediately tensed, his head being thrown back and his eyes clenching shut. He gasped out a muffled cry, but it was cut off, and as just as he began to relax, the American's hand started to move, up and around, and England's head began to swirl. America was finally touching him. This was the first time ever, and to England, the sensations were already about to send his mental state to hell, along with his coherent speech. "Am-m-m-me..! B-blimey, America, that..! Ah..."

America's cheeks were flushed with pleasure as he squeezed the stiff cock in his hand lightly. Only a few moments into foreplay, and already his body was overwhelmed with the pleasure he got...merely from hearing England cry out like that. He immediately fell in love with the sounds he received, and ached for more. "England...I want you to say my name. Please. Just...say my name in that sexy voice of yours." His fingers left the hardness in favor of pulling down England's boxer-briefs and tossing them to the floor as well, being presented with the sight of his husband, completely naked for him, for the first time. England's body was slim, creamy porcelain clashing with the rosy color of his cheeks, and even though he was slight, he had muscle, probably from so many years fighting wars and running an empire. America found this fact quite...sexy actually. "England...you're so beautiful." He whispered, feasting his eyes upon the sight he'd craved for so long.

England's first reaction was to draw his legs together and try to cover himself, but when he did, America reached down and tried to urge them apart again. "No, England, let me see." He flushed even more, but after not even a few seconds, he slowly began to let his legs move apart again, swallowing as he felt himself exposed again. There was a certain eroticism to having America stare at him like that, and it turned him on immensely, yet at the same time, the other's eyes on him like that made him a little uncomfortable. _'That's what happens on your first time, I guess...'_ he thought, taking in a shaky breath. "America..."

His name had never sounded sweeter. But... "Why are you shy?" America asked quietly, his voice not teasing even in the slightest. "I'm your husband...is it not natural for me to want to see my beautiful husband? Why are you so shy and uncomfortable?" He trailed his fingers lightly up England's leg, feeling the man tremble beneath him. The fingers caressed up his inner thigh, working up to his erection again. But he wouldn't touch him again. Not until he got his answers.

England looked away. "Its not you..." he explained. "You don't make me uncomfortable, America. No one has ever seen me completely unclothed before, of course I would be a little self conscious!" He reached down to touch the American's face reassuringly, and when the blonde lifted his head to the Briton's level, he kissed him, tender and loving. "I love you, America. Please, keep going. Don't think for even a second that I don't want this."

England's words made America smile. "You'd better get used to being unclothed, England." He whispered into the other's ear. "Because it's going to be this way every night from now on." He could practically _hear_ England's eyes rolling in his head, though his breath hitched from hearing such a thing. Now, he allowed his fingers to travel their way up the hard shaft of England's erection, teasing it along the way, just so America could hear him moan. "England..." His hand closed around the cock yet again, and then started moving, up and down, squeezing lightly as he did. He closed his eyes, feeling his own erection throb painfully.

Pleasure wracked his entire body with a shudder, and he moaned, though his cries were held back, restricted, along with his gasps. America kissed him again, tender and caring, and stroked his cheek, telling him that it was alright. "England...don't hold back. Let me hear your voice, okay..?" He swallowed thickly, but what else could he do but comply to his husband's wishes..? America squeezed gently again, and he released another moan, still conserved, but not as much. It was at least a slight improvement. "America...America! Ah...please...let me feel more..."

America gladly complied with England's words, moving his hand a bit faster as he began to move his lips down his lover's inner thigh, kissing and nipping as he went. England's body shuddered, making the American shiver with pleasure as well, knowing that England was enjoying this so much. But he was about to make it even better. "England, have you ever had an orgasm before?" He just had to ask. Wouldn't it be delightful if he, America, were to bring forth England's first orgasm? From the way England was moaning, sounding pleasured, but unsure about all of these emotions and sensations, one would think the man really was a virgin.

England puffed up and turned absolutely scarlet. What was that all about, now!? "Wha-! Idi-! Of course I've orgasmed before, I didn't deprive myself of that, at least!" America stroked at his erection again, promptly ending his rant. One simply couldn't complain under such ministrations, and America was demonstrating that quite well.

Oh damn. And here I was hoping...ah, nevermind." America grinned up at the Briton mischieviously. "At least I'll be the first one to take your real virginity." And he said no more as he removed his fingers from England's cock, in favor of placing his mouth over the very tip of the head. England's cry was music to his ears, and he had to adjust himself as the man's hips jerked upwards into his mouth. "You like this?" He asked around the hardness, taking it in a little deeper.

"Wh-ah! Why do you gh..! G-get to be...on...t-t-t-toooohhhh........." He trailed off, unable to quite finish his not-really complaint, reaching down as if to grip the American's hair, but he hesitated several times before actually grabbing it. His back arched, and he tried to buck his hips, but America's hands held his hips down, frustrating him slightly. The feeling of that mouth on his length was very much a new feeling, and he found incredibly quickly that he absolutely loved it. It was a feeling that he wanted more of.

America did not answer the unfinished question, as he'd begun taking England in deeper, licking and sucking him off as he did. England writhed beneath him, pulling in deep gasps of air and letting it out in the form of a strangled moan. "America...America, please...!" America's head began to bob, moving up and down around the cock in his mouth, sucking on it, working his teeth gently over it, and drawing the most arousing sounds from his husband's mouth. "Mmmm..." He hummed, tasting the pre-cum on his tongue as he licked at the tip for a moment.

America was just teasing him now, and England wasn't sure if he liked it or not. The pleasure that being teased gave him was astounding, but the frustration and the desperation almost evened it out...

England's groans were becoming almost too much to handle for America now. His erection ached with need for the smaller man beneath him, his heart filled to overflowing with love and adoration. England was _his_ now. _He _was the one doing this to England. _He_ was going to take England, take his precious virginity as his own, and make him his forever. It was a wonderful feeling. But any more of this and they were both going to orgasm. So America pulled back from England's cock with a soft _pop_, sitting back and wiping his mouth before leaning down to kiss his lover, allowing the other to taste himself.

America tasted different with England's essence on his tongue, but the Brit found rather quickly that it was a taste he liked. Tasting himself like that felt...strange, but it was America who was sharing that flavor with him, and so he took it eagerly. America finally broke the kiss, and got up to check through the drawers, and England wondered in irritation why he had stopped giving him all that attention until America held a bottle in front of his face, grinning like an idiot. The bottle was in Japanese. "Did Japan leave that in here..? Let's see...'strawberry...flavored'..? For him...enhances sexual exper- This is lubrication!" He went to grab the bottle to read it more fully, but America had already jerked it away and popped open the cap. England put his head in his hands. He was almost mortified. Japan had put lubrication in their room...for their honeymoon...and when he went to get it back, there was no doubt he would see that it had been used. He was almost tempted to run back to their bags and get the Astroglide that he had brought, but as America climbed back on top of him and the scent of strawberries assaulted his nose, he was sure that the other male had different plans...

"Okay, England, this might hurt a bit, so...don't kill me." America laughed weakly, coating his fingers with the lubricant before slowly prodding one into the man's virgin entrance. England stiffened, moaning low in his throat, as they finger delved its way in. America moaned at the way England clenched tight around that mere one finger, and shuddered in pleasure at the thought that his cock would soon be replacing that finger. "God, England...you're so tight." He hissed, retracting the one finger and slowly, very slowly, adding a second one.

The sensation was only somewhat familiar to England, the man having experimentally played with himself in the past, and it took a while for the experience not to feel quite so unusual. It never did feel completely comfortable, but then again, did first times ever, really..? That finger did strange things to him, wiggling around inside of him, searching deeper and stroking up the side as they began to leave him, only to come back full force when a third finger was introduced, stretching him even farther. He mentally wondered how far one person could be pulled opened like this before they were split apart...

America put a steadying hand on England's hips, trying to control his own breathing as he searched farther in. His fingers continued to stretch and scissor as they went, making sure England was wide enough to...well...fit him. He didn't want to brag or anything, but honestly, his dick _was_ pretty big...and he was sorta proud of that fact. But more than anything, he didn't want to hurt his precious England, so he continued to press his fingers further into his lover. "Are you okay?" He asked, as England continually shifted, making soft moaning sounds every so often. But then his fingers hit something, and the cry that England made, his former fairly calm countenance changing into one of pleasure and desire, made America smile with that same desire and he hit that spot again.

It was a massive shockwave that shook his whole body, and the scream that ripped itself from his throat was blissfully pained. When America struck that place a third time, he temporarily lost control of his vocal chords, and he couldn't stop himself from screaming, "Again! Oh fuck, America, please!" But when those fingers left him, he moaned in frustration, though he knew he could now anticipate what was sure to come next. It was about to happen. He was about to lose his virginity to...to his husband...and he was incredibly nervous, even through the love and bliss he currently felt.

"You okay?" The question was quiet and breathy as America sat back on his heels, pouring more of the strawberry lubrication into his palm before slowly coating his own erection with it. The twinges of pleasure that shot down his spine were nothing compared to what he was about to feel, and he welcomed them as a prelude to what was coming. When he felt like he was adequately slick enough, he put a bit more lubrication around England's entrance and some even just inside, making the process a bit easier for them both. That done, he leaned over the panting Brit and pulled his legs up, hooking them over his shoulders for eased access, and pressed his erection to England's entrance. "I love you, England, and now, I demonstrate it by becoming one with you." Never mind the way the words were phrased. Russia didn't even come to mind to either of them in that moment as America slowly, but forcefully, pushed himself into England, and sinking deep into him with a groan of pleasure. "E-England..."

England shuddered, a breathy moan extracting itself from his lips as he felt America bury into him for the first time. His breathing increased for a moment, but as he began to get more used to the feeling of the sandy blonde's cock inside of him, he calmed down, and his muscles relaxed, his breathing mellowing out. He reached up and placed his arms around America's neck, kissing just under his ear before whispering. "America...move." America did, pulling out and thrusting back in slowly, and England moaned again, arching up slightly.

Such sensations! The heat and tingling was all around him, _inside_ of him! If there was indeed a heaven, then America had just found his. The feeling of England's muscles clenching around him, showing him just how much the other man was enjoying this, was something that America felt he could live with for the rest of his life. He wrapped his arms around England's torso, burying his face into his shoulder as he shifted, pulling out again and hesitating, leaving England wanting more, before diving back inside with one quick thrust. England cried out America's name right in his ear, sending erotic desires racing through America's very blood, and he repeated the action again, wanting to find a nice rhythm. "England...don't stop...ahh...saying my name. Tell me...ngh...how much...unh...you want me."

Yes... Yes, that feeling as America entered him again, penetrating him deep and the way his voice deepened just slightly with the love-lust..! It was unlike anything he had ever felt, and it was amazing, and even as America thrust in again, and again, England could only focus on the sensations that streaked through his body. "America... America, I do want you... I want you to keep going...please..." He obeyed America's request, and sealed his own request by nibbling eagerly at the ear lobe, earning a light shiver from America, the slight tremors traveling to his own body and sending butterflies through his stomach.

"Yesssss..." The word was drawn out in a lengthy moan as he continued to thrust, pushing his hips harder each time, and shifting his position every so often as he began to move, faster and harder, never wanting this insane amount of pleasure to end. England, his wonderful husband, was his, in mind, soul, and now his body too. That thought alone brought America higher, sending him into an upward spiral of emotions and desires that he had thought would never cross his mind before. He _wanted_ England. Sure, he had him. Had him right where he truly desired him to be: forever by his side, but...somehow, that wasn't enough. He wanted England to admit to being his. Thrusting harder, America brought his lips down on the writhing Brit's neck, sucking on the skin and nibbling at it, wanting the mark to be obvious not only to him, but to the entire world. "England...England..." He couldn't stop saying his husband's name if he tried. The pleasure in it was just too great.

His name had never been said like that before, and he was instantly taken with it, that voice whispering sweetly and lovingly and lustfully in his ear. He could feel himself losing conscious thought to the pleasurable cloud that was seeping over his mind, and he was a little bit disappointed at the fact that it would be over soon. America had done an amazing job of preparing him beforehand, as he hadn't felt any overwhelming pain at all, only minor sparks every once in a while, and as America shifted his position just a bit and struck once more, England tossed his head back, arched his back, and screamed. "_America!!!_ America...oh, bloody hell, right there..." If he felt good just a little while ago, he was on cloud nine now. He hadn't ever reached a high like that, even as Britannia Angel.

America instantly knew the moment England screamed his name that he'd found what he'd been looking for. That elusive prostate was always hard to find, unless you really concentrated hard on seeking it. And now that he'd found it, America wasn't going to leave England wanting. He closed his eyes, held England tighter, and thrust again. England went tense in his arms, mouth wide open in a silent scream of pleasure. He thrust again, shuddering as he did. It was difficult holding himself back when he wanted release so much...but yet, he wanted this to go on forever. England's scream of _"America! Yes! Do it again!"_ reverberated in his mind, urging him further on, and he complied to his lover's wishes once more. "England...god, I love you so much." He moaned into the dirty blonde's ear, feeling England's fingernails dig deep into his skin with yet another quick thrust to the prostate. He knew that, sadly, it wouldn't be long now.

He wanted to respond, to tell America how much he loved him too, but his mouth wasn't forming the words. He just couldn't get much out other than encouraging murmurs and needy breaths. He was starting to feel an incredible pressure in his stomach, and he knew he couldn't last much longer than maybe a few seconds. All it took was two more thrusts, and England shuddered out a moan as he came, harder than he had ever come before. America was still going, however, and it took another four thrusts after England came for America's own release. The feeling of being filled for the first time, knowing that America, his _husband,_ was the one to fill him...it was a wonderfully mind-numbing feeling.

All was quiet in the room as America allowed his arms to ease their support of his body, lowering himself onto his panting husband with a soft moan. For a few moments, neither of them spoke for getting their breath back and basking in the sweet afterglow of their lovemaking. But finally, America raised his head to look at England, whose eyes were shut, cheeks were flushed, and lips were blissfully swollen. "England, love, look at me." England's emerald eyes fluttered into view, hazed as they were, and America smiled. "I love you so much, England. I really do. ...Did you...like that?"

England had stayed relatively quiet, as far as actual words went, and he didn't break that chain as he reached down to grip America's hair, pulling him up for a mind-blowing french kiss. England separated their near-bruised lips with an audible _pop_, and leaned his head back, heaving a sigh. That answer should have sufficed, and if that didn't, then the loving way that he weaved his fingers through the sweaty strands of blonde hair should have. He was perfectly content, and as soon as he trusted his voice again, he would let the American know with words.

"I'll take that as a yes." America whispered, gently lifting himself up and slowly, carefully, pulling his limp cock out of his handsome husband. That had been the single most amazing time of his life, and as much as he longed to take England in his arms and demonstrate his love all over again, he knew England well enough to know that he couldn't handle another round...at least not until later. The thought made him smile. He laid down next to England, pulling the Brit onto him, head resting on the American's chest and strong arms wrapping around his shaken body. He looked down at England, and lifted his fingers to the Briton's sweaty cheek, stroking it slowly, sensually, and most of all, lovingly. "I love you." He whispered again.

England smiled. He had just had the most amazing day of his entire existence, and he was almost ready to sleep, but at the same time, he wanted to spend as much (conscious) time with the other male as possible. Finally regaining his breath, trusting his voice at last, he managed to let America know, with words this time, how he felt. "America...I love you too. I really do." The sex high was wearing off, and sleep was overtaking him, though he knew that tomorrow he'd have some work to do, getting his passage cleaned out... He knew he wouldn't mind though. After all, it was America who would have to help him out.

America felt England relax against him, and knew that sleep would not be far off for the man. Already those beautiful green eyes he'd fallen for were slipping closed, a peaceful sigh on England's lips as he nuzzled into America's chest. The blonde smiled and leaned down, pressing his lips to his husband's forehead lovingly. "Sleep, my only love. In the morning, I'll make you some breakfast in bed, okay?" He knew that England probably wouldn't be in any condition to want to move around in the morning, so he could do this for his lover.

England nodded sleepily and, within five minutes, was out cold, comfortably resting in America's arms. When he awoke the next day, America was still asleep, and he smirked to himself, sitting up carefully to get himself (and America, once he woke up) a glass of water. He relaxed, and simply watched the other man sleep.

----

It was a wonderful feeling when America woke up. Despite the fact that they were both sore from the night before, neither man could deny that it had been one of the most wonderful experiences of thier lives. America kissed England affectionately and got up, pulling his husband toward the window to watch the sun rise over the horizon, bringing forth a new day, and a new beginning to their married life. And as they held each other, rapture on their faces at the beautiful rays of light casting through the thin clouds, America knew that this was all he'd ever want: England in his arms, both of them looking toward their bright future. Together.

_**The End**_


End file.
